


Bridging the Sunsets

by euphonium_polygon



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Adult Confidant AU, Age Swap, Alternate Universe - 1980s, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-02 00:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14532972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/euphonium_polygon/pseuds/euphonium_polygon
Summary: The year is 1989.Third year student Sojiro Sakura expects his final year enrolling at Shujin Academy to be a perfectly normal year. To his pleasantly unpleasant surprise, he is met with anything but normal.Based on scruffyturtles'Adult Confidant AU.





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are wondering if I have permission to do this, the answer is YES. Scruffyturtles has given an [OK to fanfiction](https://twitter.com/ScruffyTurtles/status/986678291103866880) about this AU. I hope no one is concerned about that. Thanks very much.

**_This story is a work of fiction, featuring fictional characters, and set in a fictionalized Tokyo, Japan of 1989._ **

**_Similarities and dissimilarities between this story’s 1989 and the real 1989 are one hundred percent unintentional, seeing as I wasn’t alive in 1989._ **

**_But I won’t say it isn’t real._ **

**_Please enjoy._**

* * *

**11/19/1989**

Makoto Niijima strolled through the empty gray hallway, her body tense as she walked with an urgent pace towards the interrogation chamber. She was wearing her police uniform, attire which, most days, never saw light beyond her office, her home, and the distance between them. But today was a different day.

With the detective intuition she’d inherited from her father, Makoto cycled through all the possibilities like a spinning roulette. What could have happened? How was it connected to her, her little sister Sae, and Akechi-san? She’d been putting all the pieces together for months now, but after all this time, she still hadn’t the slightest clue what had happened… or what was going to happen.

Despite her having control over the entire police force, somehow all the investigators and officers under Makoto’s command had gotten nowhere. Goro Akechi-san, her Chief Inspector, had continuously cited dead ends— but Makoto felt it just  _ had _ to be something more. Something; or perhaps a someone, pulling their strings. For all she knew, it could even be one of her own men.

The cause of this evident paradigm shift was far out of her control— and that scared Makoto more than anything. But whatever it was, she couldn’t just sit behind her desk and give orders any longer. She needed answers, and though questioning a suspect was well below her paygrade, it was clear she couldn’t trust anyone else to get them for her.

“Excuse me!” A guard called out, moving to block Makoto’s path. “This area’s off-”

Makoto looked up and glared at the man, instantly shutting him up with her eyes; piercing, bright and red enough to kill with but a single glance. After a beat, she retrieved her badge from her pocket and held it up where it could be clearly seen in the dim light of the underground chamber.

“I’m Niijima. I’ll be taking this case from here.”

“Oh, uh-” The guard looked surprised. It was clear he hadn’t a script in mind for this predicament.

“Let me through.  _ Now.” _

“Um, Niijima, see… erm… we didn’t— this case is out of your hands—”

“I am the Police Commissioner!  _ Every _ case is in my hands!” Makoto pocketed her badge, and took one step forward, still glaring threateningly. “Let me through, or I shall see to it that you are properly disciplined and reassigned!”

“I see…” The guard nervously stepped aside. “My apologies, Commissioner…”

Makoto continued to make her way towards the door, but it was no sooner than she placed her hand on the knob that an amused chuckle came from the other end of the hallway. And a very familiar chuckle at that.

“Niijima-san…”

_ What? _

Makoto slowly turned her head to confirm what she’d heard.

“…Akechi?!”

Goro Akechi, Chief Investigator of the Tokyo Police Force, was standing behind Makoto, his face laced with a smug, cold smile. His long chestnut hair floated freely about his wide shoulders, reflecting his carefree disposition. “I daresay you seem to be slightly behind the times.”

“What do you mean by that?!”

“The SIU has issued an order dictating that you are to stay out of this,” Akechi answered coolly. “I can’t imagine why, but I’m certain whatever their reason, they aren’t all too pleased with your recent actions.”

“What right have they to do that?!” Makoto shouted furiously, balling her hands into fists. “I’m in charge here!”

“Word is you won’t be for much longer, Niijima-san.” Akechi’s attitude about the matter was wholly nonchalant. “I’ve been told the superintendent is currently considering replacing you with someone… how to best put this… better suited to the task.” He nodded, seeming satisfied with that choice of words. “I do believe you too often let your emotion override logic.”

Makoto gritted her teeth, her jaw trembling furiously. “Well… I haven’t been replaced yet, now have I?! If I’ll be losing my job regardless, then I’ve no incentive to follow orders!” She slammed her fist against the door. “How’s that logic for you, Akechi?”

Akechi theatrically put a hand to his chin, and chuckled slyly once more. “I suppose I can’t argue with that.” He turned and walked in the direction from which he’d come. “If you must insist… then by all means, go ahead and question the suspect. It’s not like it matters much anyway.”

Before opening the door, Makoto took a moment to calm herself down. She needed to appear competent and level-headed before the suspect. She needed to use her time wisely. She needed to focus on her job, for as long as she still had it.

As Akechi’s footsteps receded into the ether, and his words descended to the bottom of Makoto’s mind, she swung open the door and briskly stepped inside the interrogation chamber.

She found, sitting before her, a young man of rather mature appearances, with mussed up, untidy dark brown hair and a bruised face, looking down at the table in silence. His Shujin uniform was still clean, and, indeed, he looked rather respectable. Not like a criminal at all. Which made it all the more…

“I can’t believe it’s you.” Makoto tried to keep too much emotion from permeating her voice, but it was all too difficult to do so. She realized, now, just how crestfallen she was at  _ it _ being… this boy. “You seemed like such a good student. I… respected you… believed you…”

He looked up at Makoto, revealing his glasses, warm gray eyes, and small, controlled goatee sitting on his chin.

“Sakura-kun.”

“Niijima-san, eh?” The young Sojiro Sakura laughed dryly, as, with clarity and focus, he established eye contact with Makoto. “Funny turn of fate…”

Makoto returned the eye contact. Within Sojiro’s eyes, she saw… worry. Concern, curiosity, fatigue… but not fear. He was difficult to read… and that bothered her.

A small clear object in Makoto’s peripheral vision drew her attention. When she turned her head to see it, she realized it was an empty syringe.

_ What? _

“What the…?!” Makoto gasped. “I would never have ordered…” Ever so more furious, she punched the wall, her fist becoming bruised in the process. “Who’d have dared to do a thing like that to you without my approval?!”

Sojiro said nothing, only nodding slowly.

After taking a few deep breaths, slowly coming to terms with how truly powerless she had now become, Makoto refocused her attention to Sojiro. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Sojiro blinked and rubbed his eyes. “So… what do you wanna know, Niijima-san?”

Still not quite recovered from her shock at what had happened, Makoto sat down. “Where do I even begin…?”

“You were saying about how you respected me.”

“That’s correct. I did. I considered you an admirable, upstanding young man.” Makoto swallowed. “My duty ought to be finding out the facts, your motive, how you committed these crimes and why… but I think I’m truly more interested in how you… of all people…”

“Yeah, no one would’ve ever thought to suspect me, huh?”

Makoto nodded. “I want to know why you chose to risk the life you had, Sakura-kun. It’s not like you were disadvantaged or disenfranchised. You had no criminal record. There was a bright future ahead of you. So tell me… why did you throw it all away?”

The former model student shook his head. “Jeez… where do I even begin…”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Makoto couldn’t help but find it a little funny how Sojiro had repeated her words right back at her.  _ Perhaps, _ she thought,  _ our positions right now aren’t so different… _

“How about you start at the beginning?”

Sojiro nodded in earnest agreement. “You’re the boss.”

The previous Boss inhaled deeply, then began to recall his memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise, this will be anything but another simple rehash of Persona 5's story except with new protagonists. I have gotten a lot of ideas from scruffyturtles' art but I also have a ton of my own that deviate and expand on other things they haven't said yet. So this won't be a 100 percent copy of anything. More of a real hefty "inspired by."
> 
> Thank you for reading! ♡♡♡ :))


	2. Youth's Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! So, I hope everyone likes this. I put a lot of time and thought into it... and I hope it came out good!
> 
> I got a little more people reading than I expected, so... I'm glad. Thank you so much for kudos, subscriptions, and bookmarks! I'm flattered!
> 
> There might be a greater time gap between this and the next chapter, though, since I have some stuff to do. I hope no one minds.

**4/10/1989**

_“Opportunity!”_

That word spilled from the mouth of Shujin Academy’s Principal, Yu Narukami. A middle-aged man with short, wilting gray hair and glasses, he typically appeared rather plain and mild-mannered. But, as Sojiro now knew from having attended Shujin for two years, going on three, the principal could get impressively fired up when presented with an audience.

Currently, Narukami was making energetic hands gestures to punctuate his words, not quite unlike a conductor commanding an orchestra. However, given the principal’s over-exuberance, Sojiro was quite certain that Narukami would not make an especially good conductor. His movement pattern often proved terribly confusing, and so would likely be far too difficult for even the most skilled musicians to interpret.

“At Shujin Academy, we value opportunity,” Principal Narukami went on, projecting his voice as far as he possibly could. “No one is ever to be left behind here! And as the Principal, it is my sworn duty, my solemn vow, to ensure that all of my students are presented with opportunities!” He thrust an open palm out towards the crowd to make his point.

“But— I urge you to remember, that this does not mean your opportunity will come from nowhere. You must all work hard as students to become worthy of these opportunities that are offered to you in life, and—” he extended his hand high into the air, and closed it into a tight, confident fist, _“grab them by the throat, and squeeze all you can from them!_ This, is the most important thing to remember! You need not underachieve, or fall far behind your peers. All of you will be given the opportunities to remain equal in this school, and just as it is my duty to make them attainable, it is yours, and yours alone, to _ATTAIN THEM!_ And once you have, I urge all of you to rise above and beyond your limits!”

From behind Sojiro’s seat in the auditorium, he heard a tired sigh as the Principal continued speaking. “Jeez, Narukami just keeps repeating the same thing over and over…”

He turned his head slightly to see his young, usually bubbly classmate, Ichiko Ohya, sitting behind him with a look of tired boredom on her face. Her long black hair was tied back in a ponytail with a bright blue scrunchie, and the purple pearl necklace hanging from her neck was quite pretty in the light.

“I bet I could write a way more coherent speech if only he ever asked!” Noticing that she’d gotten Sojiro’s attention, Ohya beamed brightly at him, her brown eyes sparkling eagerly. “Don’t you think so, Sojiro-kun?”

Sojiro turned away from Ohya and refocused his eyes on the still bellowing Narukami. “Don’t ask me.”

“Come on! Aren’t my newspaper articles better than the principal’s recycled speeches? You have to at least admit that!”

“You know I don’t read the gossip you write, Ohya-san.”

“Well, you should!”

“I really shouldn’t.”

Ohya huffed in disappointment. “Mean.”

Sojiro had known Ohya since their very first day of middle school together. While he was sure she meant well, she was far too inquisitive for her own good. Since joining the Newspaper Club after starting high school, that curiosity had grown to completely consume her, as nearly all she would ever talk about was her articles. So Sojiro spent a lot less time hanging out with her than he used to, and, quite frankly, he didn’t think he wanted to.

“And so, once again, as you all enter this new chapter of your school lives together, remember to never squander these chances!” Narukami declared, as he withdrew his arms to his sides and bowed deeply, to middling, unenthused applause from the student body. “And now, I shall introduce our guest. Our last year’s student council president, newly minted Shujin graduate Sae Niijima. Please welcome her to the stage with open arms and wondrous applause!!!”

A few people clapped slowly as Sae Niijima walked up to take Principal Narukami’s place at the podium.

“Thank you.” Niijima, who looked rather tired in spite of her young age, casually brushed her gray hair out of her face with her hand and began to speak. “As Principal Narukami said, opportunity is a valuable thing. But what has been so much more important to me has been to get ahead in the great race in which all of us have been competing for our entire lives.” Her tone of voice was cool and neutral, unlike Narukami’s passionate and colorful nuances.

“Niijima-senpai seems a bit cold, don’t’cha think?” Ohya wondered.

“She’s always been like that,” Sojiro hissed dismissively. “Can you stop talking? I’m trying to pay attention.”

“I believe that acting upon this desire to win first place in the race of life has gotten me to my exceptional status,” Niijima continued. “Last year, I successfully juggled the position of student council president while managing my home life, keeping up with schoolwork, preparing for entrance exams to enter the college I desired. Hardly did I languish in all of this. And it was because I desired not simply to be content with what I had, but to go above and beyond. To speed past all others. And…”

There was an awkward beat of silence.

“And I hope my successor to the seat of student council president has the same philosophy in mind. Third year class representative Sadayo Kawakami-san. Please come forward.” Niijima shortly bowed and exited the stage.

“At least she knows when to shut up,” Ohya noted.

This time, Sojiro chose to completely ignore the over-talkative young journalist.

Though the audience’s response was still not terribly euphoric, a great many more people clapped for Niijima than for Narukami. The applause was renewed for a few moments longer, as Sadayo Kawakami nervously rose from the crowd and approached the podium.

“Ah… uh…”

Kawakami had a serious case of bedhead. Her curly brown hair was all over the place, and her deep chocolate eyes bore red circles around them. It wouldn’t have been terribly surprising to Sojiro to learn that she almost hadn’t slept at all in about a week.

“Well, um… I hope everyone tries their best.”

Her voice did not project very far. No one clapped as she stepped off the stage.

“That’s it?!” Sojiro heard someone yelling from the back row. “Come on! Surely you’ve got more to say than that!”

“I-I really don’t…” Kawakami coughed. “I’m sorry, Kaneshiro-kun…”

The entire audience turned their attention to the source of dissent— the pudgy president of the Newspaper Club, second year student Junya Kaneshiro. He was sitting next to the volleyball team’s star player, Suguru Kamoshida— also a second year student —who seemed to somehow find the dispute immensely entertaining.

“You’re embarrassing yourself!” Kaneshiro yelled. “This isn’t going to look very good in the school paper, you know!”

“I’m pretty sure that… I’ve got better things to do as student council president than… make… stupid speeches!” Kawakami retorted tiredly. She looked like she might collapse into a slumbering heap upon the floor any second now.

“You think the welcome ceremony is a joke?!” Kaneshiro shouted back. “Kawakami-san, you’re—”

“THIS ASSEMBLY IS, HENCEFORTH, DISMISSED!” Principal Narukami bellowed at the top of his lungs, cutting off Kaneshiro before he could continue and thus drawing everyone’s eyes away from the argument. “NOW, BEGIN THE SCHOOL YEAR WITH _UTMOST OPTIMISM!_ And do not hesitate to take full advantage of the greatest gift of all, the gift of **_YOUTH!”_ **

Losing interest in the conflict, everyone stood up and began to file out of the auditorium. Kawakami, still quite weary-eyed, looked visibly relieved.

Kaneshiro emitted a small _hmph_ and filed out of the crowd as well.

“How do you deal with that guy as a boss?” Sojiro wondered as he stood up and turned to Ohya. “He seems like a real hardass if you ask me.”

“Well, I guess Kaneshiro-kun is a little annoying sometimes…” Ohya admitted, rather pensively, “but he’s always got some great stuff for me to write about!”

“Sure.” Sojiro pulled a metal thermos out of his bag and quickly walked up to Kawakami. “Hey, president.”

“Hmm?” Kawakami turned her bloodshot eyes to Sojiro curiously. “Can I help you, Sakura-kun?”

“You seem tired.” Sojiro held out the thermos towards the fatigued president with a warm, charming smile. “How about some of my aunt’s coffee to give you a jig?”

“…mmm… sure.”

President Kawakami took the thermos, popped off the cap, then tilted her head high in the air and poured the contents down her throat in a single swig.

“Whoa there!” Sojiro warned, balking in surprise at Kawakami’s eagerness. “That’s half a liter of caffeine right there!”

“It tastes good.” Kawakami coughed. “Thank you… Sakura—” She coughed again, before clearing her throat and handing the empty thermos back. She then blinked, appearing to make a conscious effort to keep her eyes as wide open as possible. “I’m wide awake…”

“Well, you better be,” Sojiro said with a grin. “Listen, make sure you get some more sleep, alright? A pretty face like yours looks even prettier when it’s been rested.”

“Trying to sweet talk the student council president, are we?”

Sojiro turned his head once again to see Ohya standing behind him, looking reproachful.

“Uh, no, I was just telling her that—”

“Quit the Casanova act, Sojiro-kun!” Ohya snapped, looping her arm around him and staring him straight in the eye. “You know I’m the only one right for you!”

“Geez, that again?” Sojiro said, pulling out of her grasp. “And _I’m_ the one who’s not supposed to be making moves?!”

“Come on, Sojiro-kun! I’m serious!”

“Don’t try to fool me. You’re about as serious as a…” Sojiro paused, grappling awkwardly for a witty comeback. “Uh…”

“Whatever!” Ohya turned her nose up to the sky petulantly and trotted away. “I need to talk to Kaneshiro-kun about the newspaper!”

“Um… sure…”

Sojiro was at a loss for words.

“Sakura-kun… what was that?” Kawakami giggled, her laugh almost sounding like a kitten’s meow.

“Y’know, I don’t think I could tell you myself.” Sojiro sighed, and started walking away. “Jeez, Ohya-san is so hard to talk to…”

* * *

“Hey, Sakura!”

The voice speaking to him was deep and polished, like that of a sports announcer. But Sojiro wasn’t a big fan of sports, so he chose to ignore said voice and continue strolling down the hallway in the direction of his homeroom.

“Sakura! I’m talking to you!”

Sojiro turned around in annoyance to see Kamoshida, waving at him. He was wearing a huge and obnoxious smile, still appearing to find everything transpiring before him absolutely hilarious (for some reason or reasons far beyond Sojiro). His atrocious, messy haircut and acne ridden complexion didn’t help impressions whatsoever.

“Good morning, Kamoshida-san.” Sojiro folded his arms passive aggressively. “What do you want?”

“You were talking to Ohya-chan at the welcome ceremony, isn’t that right?” Kamoshida said coolly.

“So what if I was?”

“If you were?” Kamoshida shrugged. “Well, I don’t have a problem. You can talk to whoever you like.”

“Terrific.” Sojiro let his arms flop to his side and started to walk off. “I’ll be going to class then.”

“Whoa whoa whoa, hold up, my friend!” Kamoshida slammed a beefy hand onto Sojiro’s shoulder, arresting him in place. “We’re not done! I just wanna clear up something here before we go our separate ways. That all right with ya, Sakura?”

Sojiro rolled his eyes. _What a self-important time-wasting prick…_

Before turning around, he forced a polite smile to present to Kamoshida.

“Sure then, Kamoshida-san. What do you want to clear up?”

“Glad you asked, friend.” Kamoshida put an uninvited arm over Sojiro’s shoulder. “See, since I don’t have a problem who you talk to, I just wanna make sure _you_ don’t have a problem.”

"With who I talk to?" Sojiro actually did have a problem with who he'd been talking to, but that was none of Kamoshida's business.

"No no," Kamoshida corrected, shaking his head. "With who  _I_ talk to."

"Why would I give a hoot who you talk to?"

"So you don't have a problem?"

“No. I don’t have a problem.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“Yup. Now can I please get to class?”

Seeming satisfied, Kamoshida let go of Sojiro. “Wonderful! Glad we agree, Sakura. Make sure you don’t butt in on my chats, and I won’t butt in on yours, you got it? Live and let live, as they say.” As the jock strolled away, he gave Sojiro a big **PAT** on the back— nearly knocking all the wind out of him with his huge hands. “Later, buddy!”

Sojiro grunted, stopping to catch his breath. “Sure…”

 _Hell was that all about?_ He wondered, as he resumed the journey to his classroom. _Ah, well… I guess it’s none of my business, like Kamoshida said. So long as I don’t bother him…_

* * *

Principal Yu Narukami’s office was lined with gray-toned pictures of his old friends, routinely reminding him of the good times back in Inaba, all those decades ago. His eyes drawn to them once more, Yu smiled fondly at those old memories.

While the war had brought immense turmoil and chaos upon the better part of the nation, Inaba’s relative isolation had permitted its citizens to live in peace. That position induced much unease, especially among those who had friends and family elsewhere in Japan. It had been a perplexing time for Yu and his friends alike, especially with the introduction of those strange powers allowing them entry into that world beyond the cinema screen.

Even so, they hadn’t missed the chance to live out their youth to the fullest. And it was that memory, that Yu often found himself smiling at the most.

His mind wandering once again, he turned to check his face in the mirror.

_I sure don’t look like I used to…_

Back in the day, Yu had certainly been far more attractive and plentiful. More… cool. Perhaps it was naive of him, but Yu cherished his memory of those days. He liked looking cool. He liked _being_ cool. He’d certainly lost a little spark in his old age. And that was a shame.

What he hadn’t lost, however, was his confidence as a leader. That confidence was something he was immensely proud of, and determined to carry to his grave. To keep his school safe, free, and above all, fair for everyone willing to work their hardest to accomplish their goals.

As Yu was pensively pondering these thoughts, the phone mounted on his wall rang. Without hesitation, he picked it up.

“Yes!” Yu almost shouted into the receiver. “This is Principal Yu Narukami of Shujin Academy! How might I assist you today?”

A cold, plain businessman spoke from the other end.

“Yes… um, I’m sorry, the school year has already begun. There’s no more spaces. We are not open for further enrollment… Oh? Is that so? Pardon… wait, you’re who…? You said how much? Well, that’s wonderful, but I’m afraid…”

The man’s next words chilled Yu to the bone.

“Oh! I-I didn’t know… Yes, your son can transfer! I’ll make it work for you… um… starting next week— no, starting tomorrow! I’m glad you’re satisfied…”

But he’d already hung up.

* * *

The school day flew by like a butterfly in molasses. Which is to say, it didn’t fly by at all. As Sojiro sat by in English class with Takamaki-sensei, he pondered how things had changed over the summer, while he’d been busy learning from his aunt how to best manage a coffee shop.

That pretentious ass Kamoshida, and Ohya’s devoted club leader Kaneshiro. Of all the people to be sitting in adjacent seats, and it was them— seeming to have no problem with each other, despite the dispute they’d experienced when they first met the year prior.

And Ohya, of course, still couldn’t take a hint. Despite Sojiro’s continued rejection of her efforts, she continued to act like they were still old childhood friends. They weren’t. They couldn’t. She’d proven with her behavior last year just how poor her character was. As much as he sometimes wished they could have stayed friends, helping her wasn’t Sojiro’s business.

“Sakura? Are you dozing off?”

Sojiro stood up and turned to look at Takamaki. “No, sensei! Is there something I can help with?”

“Yes, Sakura-kun,” Takamaki answered, with her usual, sexy, lipstick-laden smile and a friendly wink from behind her polished red aviator glasses. It was looks like these that gave her such a reputation among the students for being, quite possibly, Shujin Academy’s most beautiful teacher. “Please read the next passage for me, darling.”

“Anything for you, sensei,” Sojiro replied, grinning, as he stood and picked up the book. He then read the passage aloud, tuning the rest of the room out as he did so to focus on the delivery of the words. His English intonation wasn’t that great. But the mechanics of the language itself, he was certain he’d mostly picked up on.

When he finished, Takamaki, seeming satisfied, waved for him to sit back down.

“Keep up the good work, Sakura-kun,” she advised. “I’m sure if you work on improving your speech as best you can, you’ll almost certainly pass the midterm oral exam.”

“Thank you, sensei,” Sojiro said, sitting back down.

“Now, Ohya-chan. If you would…”

A pencil clattered to the floor.

“Um…”

Takamaki adjusted her glasses. “You _were_ paying attention, right?”

* * *

_“Sojiro-kun!!!”_ Ohya whined as she ran after him, pushing through the Shibuya Crossing crowd as he approached the entrance to the Yongen-Jaya train line. “Please! You have to help me with my English!”

School was over for the day, and Ohya’s fulfillment of Takamaki-sensei’s request had been less than enchanting, to say the least. But Sojiro had much better things to be doing than helping Ohya with her homework. Not to mention, he didn’t really want to.

“Tough luck, I guess,” he replied unsympathetically, walking briskly in the busy streets with no consideration for Ohya’s walking pace. “Get Kawakami to help you. She seems pretty charitable.”

“I already asked! But she’s too busy with student council work…” Ohya put a spring in her step to catch up to Sojiro as he reached the edge of the platform. “There’s no one else in class I can ask! This sucks!” She turned her gaze to the ground, pouting petulantly. “Why do I even have to study English anyways? I’m a journalist, and I’m getting along just fine writing in Japanese! Ugh, it’s so stupid!!”

Surprised by the audacity of this statement, Sojiro stopped walking. Ohya could be appallingly stubborn and immature, yes, but did she seriously not understand just how important it was for her to succeed in school and get to a good college? Perhaps she needed to—

No. She wouldn’t listen to a lecture.

“Just get used to it,” Sojiro replied, rolling his eyes and resuming his brisk walk, not turning around to face her. “And besides, how do you know it won’t be useful?”

“Because I don’t need it!” Ohya insisted. “I don’t need anything that doesn’t make me a better journalist, and that’s that!”

“Sure…”

As Sojiro descended into the underground walkway of Shibuya Station, Ohya studiously followed. It seemed like she wanted to say something. But whatever that something might have been, she was apparently choosing to forgo voicing it in favor of prancing along behind Sojiro, glaring at him every couple of seconds as if—

“Uh… don’t you have to catch a different line home?” Sojiro asked, at long last making eye contact with Ohya, which he’d not done properly all day. “Or did you want something from me?”

The oblivious school journalist blinked awkwardly.

“Well… it’s just that… um, Sojiro-kun…”

“Spit it out, alright?” Sojiro said with a sigh. “I need to get home soon or Futaba-san will kill me.”

The response was not what he expected.

Ohya laughed. A warm, nervous laugh. It came slowly, cautiously, almost as if she were testing something out. Sojiro wasn’t sure what she expected to happen, apart from him making weird looks at her.

“Hey, um…”

“I’m fine!” Ohya set the laugh loose, permitting it to float from her lips and subsequently disappear. “I guess it’s silly, right…”

“What’s silly?”

“My feelings,” Ohya answered with a half-hearted smile. “It doesn’t matter how I feel… so long as I keep writing good articles for the paper! Don’t you agree with me, Sojiro-kun?”

“Um…”

“Ah, what am I saying?” She bowed gently and turned in the other direction to go catch her train. “I should go…”

“Alright…”

And within moments, she was gone.

Unaffected, Sojiro shrugged and headed his own way.

* * *

“Hey, kid!” Sojiro’s aunt and caretaker, Futaba Sakura, acknowledged him from behind the counter with a look of suspicion as he entered Cafe Leblanc. “You’re back a little late…”

Despite being in her early fifties, Futaba was about a head or two shorter than Sojiro, which was a frequent source of annoyance for her (although it could not be denied that Sojiro’s ability to reach high shelves proved useful in the shop).

“Yeah, first day. Forgot how to find the train. Y’know how it is.” Sojiro took a seat at the counter and smiled at his guardian expectantly. “Coffee?”

“What’d you do with the coffee I gave you this morning?”

“I let the student council president have it.”

“Sojiro!” Futaba groaned. “If this student council president wants my coffee, tell her to come to the store and pay for it!”

“Probably not a good idea,” Sojiro mused. “She’d probably drop for a nap in the middle of the street halfway to here. She was so sleepy you’d think she was drunk.”

“ _Was_ she drunk?”

“I hope not. Wouldn’t it look pretty bad for the student council prez to engage in underage drinking?”

“Yes it would,” Futaba affirmed, as she poured a cup of coffee and placed it on the counter in front of Sojiro. “So, what else happened at school?”

“Just the usual, Futaba-san.” Sojiro took a sip of the coffee. “Well, apart from it being the first day and all.”

“Huh. Alrighty. You think you’re gonna join any clubs?”

“They haven’t started opening for applications yet.”

“But when they do. Are you gonna join any clubs?”

“Um…”

Come to think of it, most people who Sojiro generally spoke to at Shujin weren’t part of any clubs. Well, Ohya, but… Sojiro wasn’t ever going to join her club.

Futaba seemed to take Sojiro’s silence as an affirmation of the negative.

“Kid, you need to get outside a little more. Meet people. Help out. Do things. Get yourself a girlfriend.”

“A girlfriend?” Sojiro found the concept amusing. He wasn’t sure what girl would want to date _him,_ of all people. It wasn’t like there was anything _wrong_ with him, exactly… just, there were lots of other guys who he was sure would be more interesting. “Why would I—”

“I’m just saying, Sojiro! I used to spend way too much time inside, y’know… And, well, I kinda do, force of habit…” Futaba was quiet for a moment. “I would have liked a boyfriend. I’m just saying, okay? You don’t have to join any clubs or make friends or anything if you don’t want to… well…”

“It’s not like I’m against making friends or anything,” Sojiro assured her. “It’s just, y’know, I don’t know if—”

“I’m being serious, alright? Listen: If an opportunity comes, you’d better consider it, kid.” Futaba placed both her hands flat upon the counter and looked Sojiro straight in the eye. “Don’t let an entire world pass you by. I know I did, and… I want to make sure I never miss my chances again.”

“But aren’t you happy with this cafe?”

“Y’know, I guess I am… Futaba chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right. I should get outside more too… I mean, I’m old, but not _that_ old.” She put an exasperated palm to her face. “Geez, I’m such a little hypocrite…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Sojiro assured her, with a mischievous grin. “A hag like you’s still got a few years left.”

“Shut up!” Futaba glared at Sojiro, and looked like she was about to say or do something more, when suddenly the phone rang. Forgetting Sojiro’s quip, she went to pick it up.

“Hello?”

There was a beat of silence. As the caller spoke, Futaba looked incensed.

“What do you want?!” Futaba yelled. “You have some nerve calling this place!”

“I’m gonna go home,” Sojiro announced, as he stood and made for the door. He knew this conversation wasn’t for his ears. It was best for him to go back to the house.

Futaba nodded, waving him out the door. “If you wanted to see your son, you should have taken him to America with you!”

Sojiro shut the door behind him.

* * *

Falling asleep wasn’t as hard as Sojiro thought it’d be after seeing Futaba answer that call. Waking up wasn’t hard, either. What _was_ hard was coming to terms with the unbelievable sight that greeted him when he awakened.

Sojiro was in a bar. And not just any bar. A bar with stools cushioned in blue velvet, being tended by a bizarrely featured long nosed man in a suit, busily mixing drinks. Deep, solemnly somber yet gently hopeful piano music played from the radio above.

He’d have thought it was a dream, but his dreams usually felt more “on rails” than this. This felt real. Absolutely, one hundred percent real.

“Hey, uh…” Sojiro approached the bar and looked at the bizarre long nosed man. “I’m pretty sure I’m not old enough to enter a bar…”

“Ah! A guest! How delightful!” The man stopped mixing the drinks and locked bloodshot eyes with Sojiro. His demeanor was warm and welcoming, despite his weird appearance and high-pitched voice. “Welcome to the Velvet Room!”


	3. Fragile Chances

The high-rise penthouse which housed the family’s business operations stretched up to the sky, standing amongst the many hotels, restaurants, and office buildings of Tokyo. It was certainly an incredible possession for one man to hold. But juxtaposed against the taller buildings that surrounded it, nothing particularly special to behold. Just another tall building. And the man who owned it preferred it that way.

“Good,” this man— a tall brown-haired fellow wearing a business suit —said. He’d been satisfied, and so he hung up the phone without another word. He folded his arms and walked across the room, a highly decorated sitting area with a wooden-cased tube TV tuned to the news.

In front of this TV was a young, lean teenage boy with short gray hair, a large brown leather jacket, and gecko tattoo on his neck. The boy had few scars, but scars nonetheless, and he was coldly glaring at the television screen, actively ignoring the man.

_“As expected, the economy is still skyrocketing, with the value of the yen continuing to maintain these unprecedented levels. This week, Okumura Foods announced a startling raise in their stock prices, and—”_

“Son.” The man’s voice so audibly and abruptly interrupted the newscaster, that an inattentive observer could easily have been forgiven for believing the TV had been switched off.

“Yes, Dad.”

“Look at me when I am speaking to you, Munehisa.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

Kaoru turned in the opposite direction and shook his head in disappointment. “Perhaps that’s a battle you’ll win with your teachers, son. But you and I both know I am the stronger man.” He turned his head, his face soft and frustrated. “Please do not make me use force. I do not relish the idea of fighting my boy.”

Munehisa Iwai groaned and turned around, glaring at his dad. “I don’t see why we gotta talk. I already said what I gotta say. I can be part of the business. I _am_ part of the business. I don’t need to go to school!”

“As much as I appreciate your eagerness— and I assure you, I do —I’m sorry to say the yakuza do not truly belong in a traditional world, Munehisa. And no matter what we do for our society, we never will. It is key that you learn how to fit properly into the society that we coexist with.”

“Says the millionaire crime lord who lives in a fucking penthouse! What kind of ‘society’ are you ‘fitting into,’ huh?”

Kaoru sighed and turned to look out the window of the high rise, out at the vast expanse of Tokyo beyond, and the buildings that dwarfed it in the distance.

“Toppling this building is not an impossible feat. Nor even an implausible one. Don’t think that just because of what we can get away with, that we’re invincible.”

Munehisa gritted his teeth, but said nothing and listened to his dad as the speech continued.

“We’re living in a bubble, son, and it could pop any minute now,” Kaoru told Munehisa quietly, turning around to face him with a pensive look. “We’ve only come so far because of our luck. Luck always runs out. It’s inevitable. And when luck runs out… you better have skills.”

“Bullshit!” Iwai shouted. “I don’t need a lecture from my old man! Only ‘skill’ I need is teaching an asshole a lesson with a good clock to the nose!”

“You think that’s all you are?!” Kaoru yelled. “Munehisa! Do you believe that that’s all I value you for? That’s all you’re worth? Instigating violence?!”

There was a beat of silence between them. Kaoru, glaring at his son, expecting a comeback. Munehisa, his teeth still gritted, and now, his fists joining in as they clenched, his jaw on the verge of coming apart to speak, or shout, or scream. But he had nothing to say.

Kaoru turned away dismissively. “You’re only proving my point.”

“Whatever.” Munehisa let up the tension, and looked back at the TV.

_“Okumura Foods also today commented on their continuing efforts to expand Big Bang Burger Westward, as current CEO Haru Okumura, the daughter of former CEO and current international operations manager Kunikazu Okumura, who has, at nineteen years old, gone on record as the youngest CEO in the company’s history, stated that—”_

“Turn that shit off,” Kaoru snapped. “We’re going to go buy your uniform for tomorrow.”

Munehisa sighed and shut off the TV set.

“And take off that jacket. You need to look respectable.”

* * *

The long nosed geezer, who seemed not terribly bothered by the presence of a minor in his bar, casually poured some ingredients into a cocktail shaker and began mixing them. “My name is Igor. I am pleased to make your acquaintance!”

“So… The Velvet Room?” Sojiro stared at the so-called Igor, then all around the bar, perplexed. “Well, ain’t that a classy name for such a weird place?”

“Please take this seriously, Sojiro Sakura,” a small young voice said from behind the bar. “My master does not take too kindly to rudeness, I’m afraid.”

Sojiro peered over the top of the bar for the source, and, to his surprise, he found that it was a small girl, busily polishing glasses. She had golden eyes, and gold-silver hair, tied back behind her head in a bun, and accessorized by a silver butterfly hair clip. For as young as she appeared, her stature was somewhat mature and balanced— an impression helped by the addition of the pint-sized bartender uniform, which was just as velvety blue as the rest of the room.

Igor chuckled in great amusement, as he poured a drink from the shaker and presented it to Sojiro. “Do not worry. Lavenza is somewhat mistaken. You were not being untoward in the slightest!”

“Um…” Sojiro looked at the drink that Igor had served, extremely reluctant to drink it. Then down at the girl— Lavenza, still quietly polishing glasses, her head still not visible to the average drinker. And then taking into consideration that he was still 17…

“So, this is a red-light district bar run by yakuza or something, and you serve minors—"

“Oh, no!” Igor shook his head. “My boy, you are jumping to conclusions! The truth could not be any further! You see, the Velvet Room is a place that exists between dream and reality, mind and matter, and is ever changing to reflect its guest. And in your case, it has taken the form of a bar, where myself and Lavenza are bartenders!”

Sojiro blinked.

“So this  _ is _ a dream.”

“Why, yes it is! Right now, you are peacefully slumbering in reality.”

“Can I wake up now, then? I have to get to school.”

“All in good time, now.” Igor pointed to the glass he’d served Sojiro moments before. “If you would kindly drink that, your journey may begin properly.”

“Um… but…”

How was Sojiro supposed to respond to this? It was a dream, so it should be okay… but somehow he got a feeling there was something more going on. It probably wasn’t a good idea to drink something from a stranger without knowing what was in it…

“Well, I’m still a kid…” he nervously scratched the back of his head. “So I really shouldn’t…”

“Please, do not be concerned. You’ll come of age soon enough, won’t you?” Igor chuckled, setting aside the shaker. “However, should you truly wish to not take this first step towards growth…” He shot a mischievous glare at Sojiro. “It is not my place to force your hand. You may certainly choose to not embark on this journey, but the opportunity will not come again.”

Sojiro looked up at Igor’s kind, inquisitive face— then back down at the cocktail he’d been given. It was certainly enticing. Sojiro had always wanted to try drinking, but he’d always figured he just wasn’t old enough. He wasn’t sure if starting now would be a good idea, and there was no one to offer guidance. Lavenza, washing dishes behind the bar, looked quite indifferent to the matter. He wondered what Futaba would think.

She probably wouldn’t like it, but…

“The choice is yours, and yours alone,” Igor suddenly spoke up, as if he’d been hearing Sojiro’s thoughts— which caused him to jerk his gaze upwards in surprise. “So, my dear guest, will you choose to trust your heart and advance your youth, or will you abandon this opportunity, and stay as you are?”

“Well, I guess if you put it like that…”

Opportunities. Chances. Choices. Those words kept popping up. And… youth. Sojiro wasn’t sure if he believed in fate and all that nonsense, but he supposed if this guy was nice enough to not force him, it couldn’t be too bad…

“Ah, what the hell,” Sojiro said, shrugging and grabbing the glass. “Futaba-san can’t read my mind, right?”

_ Though sometimes it feels like she can… _

His grip tight and firm, Sojiro lifted the glass and gradually tilted it downwards into his mouth, taking slow, controlled sips. It tasted rather thin, yet syrupy, like maple… but with a sort of an indescribable otherworldly tang. Actually, it was pretty good…

When Sojiro was finished, he didn’t feel drunk at all. But then again, he’d never gotten drunk before— so he wouldn’t know what it felt like, or how long it took to set in.

“Wonderful!” Igor said, nodding his head in delight. “Please direct your attention to the bottom of the glass.”

“Um… okay…”

Sitting at the bottom of the empty glass, there was a small blue key.

“Wait, that was at the bottom the whole time?!” Sojiro was stunned. “Jeez! I could have choked on that!”

“Oh, that couldn’t possibly have happened!” Igor assured. “The key only appears once the glass has been drained. Absolutely no danger of being swallowed!”

“Right…” This dream was just getting weirder and weirder by the second. Narrowing his eyes suspiciously, Sojiro reached inside the glass and took the key from the bottom. “Anyway, what’s this key for, exactly?”

“That key shall permit you to enter the Velvet Room again in the future!” Igor answered, as though that made perfect sense. “Do not concern yourself with the particulars. When the time comes for your powers to awaken within you, you shall come to understand properly.”

“Right… um, isn’t this a bit much? Serving a minor, then giving them the key to the bar?” Sojiro wondered, pocketing the key— which, oddly enough, wasn’t wet at all despite having been at the bottom of a drink. “And you said this is supposed to be like my heart? Geez, my heart’s gotta be one crazy place…”

It was now that Sojiro became conscious of feeling rather woozy. His vision started to cloud up, and…

“Hey, hang on a second… I don’t think people get drunk this fast…?!”

“Please relax,” Lavenza told him blankly, not looking up from the next cocktail glass she had taken to polishing. “You are only starting to wake up.”

“For now, you shall return to your world,” Igor added helpfully. “When we meet again, things shall have become far clearer…”

“Ermm… okay…” Sojiro found himself collapsing to the ground, feeling rather light and floaty. “If you say so…”

And then his soul vanished from existence in the Velvet Room.

* * *

**4/11/1989**

When Sojiro awoke, the first thing he did was check his pocket. He didn’t actually expect it to be there, but did so more out of instinct. Much to his surprise—

“Huh…”

He took a long look at the key. Still unnaturally blue, still the same key, still right where he’d left it in his dream.

“So it was…”

But he still didn't feel drunk. That certainly cast at least _some_ doubt on the reality of the experience.

“Hey, kid!” Futaba’s voice called out from downstairs. “Come get breakfast! You’ll be late for school!”

“Right…”

Sojiro yawned, climbed out of bed, and began searching for his clothes. His room was pretty clean and rather nondescript, with all his things sorted away in boxes on his shelf or hanging inside his closet, and no decorations to speak of.

Because of this, one might believe that he’d have an easy time finding his belongings, but, in actuality, Sojiro frequently forget where he’d put things. Sometimes, he was drawn to wonder if perhaps people with messier rooms had an easier time managing their stuff. He was pretty sure that he’d have his uniform on right away if it were strewn about his floor, rather than… wherever he’d put it away.

“Sojiro!” Futaba yelled. “Get down here!”

“Just a second, Futaba-san!”

At this, Sojiro heard the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs, down the hall of the house, and into his room. “When are you gonna start calling me Mom?!”

“It’s really weird to call you Mom… and, um…”

Futaba hadn’t yet changed out of her pajamas either. And, to be frank, with her green and pink striped shirt, sweatpants, and Featherman slippers, not to mention her untidy hair… she looked kind of ridiculous. Despite his best efforts to exercise restraint, Sojiro found himself cracking up.

Futaba scowled crankily. “What’s so funny, you li’l punk?!”

“Just…” Sojiro stifled another laugh. “You woke up just to make breakfast for me?”

“Of course I did, kid!” Futaba snapped. “I’m your mom, so of course I’d make breakfast! You’re grateful, aren’t you?”

“Did you even think to take a shower?”

“…”

Sojiro laughed again.

“Just go downstairs and eat your curry!”

“I have to get changed first!” Sojiro pointed out. “And I can’t find my unifor-”

“Oh, crap,” Futaba groaned. “I forgot to put it back…”

“What, were you trying it on?”

“No! I just took it to the coin laundromat while you were asleep…” She ran back down the hall. “I’ll go get it!”

* * *

In stark contrast to Sojiro’s clean room, the rest of Futaba’s house was pretty crowded and messy. All sorts of books and weird tech and things from Akihabara were lying all over the place. Besides Futaba’s fondness for coffee as both a skill and as a tool for sustaining herself on long nights, she also had a deep passion for tinkering with technology, especially computers. Personally, Sojiro didn’t see the appeal. He didn’t find computers useful for much of anything.

Futaba came downstairs, now wearing her usual dark green shirt and dark blue jeans, and sat down at the dining room table with Sojiro. “So you found breakfast okay?”

“Yeah,” Sojiro affirmed. He was now wearing his uniform, making sure to eat quickly— but not too quickly, so as to ensure that he didn’t accidentally get any food onto the uniform.

“So… um, he called…”

“Yep.” This was a sensitive topic for them both, and Futaba spoke very slowly. “He’s still working overseas… but he’s got the nerve to think you’ll _fly_ over… just cause…”

“Well, maybe I should at least send him something…”

“He doesn’t deserve it,” Futaba insisted. “That bastard abandoned you… and me… and… god, some big brother he is, that idiot…” She sighed. “If you ever answer the phone, and it’s him, you hang up, understand?”

“But—”

_“Hang. Up.”_

Sojiro didn’t think it was a good idea to push away family like this, but he wasn’t in a place to argue with his guardian. So, he nodded.

“Yeah. I’ll hang up.”

“Good.” Futaba said, satisfied, as she got up from her chair. “You finish your breakfast and get to school, now. I gotta open the cafe. Don’t wanna keep that weird artist guy waiting.” She put on her apron and held up a reproachful hand to Sojiro. “And don’t you forget to wash your dishes, kiddo!”

Sojiro nodded. “Will do.”

She shut the door behind her.

He hastily finished his curry and, after quickly rinsing his plate, hurried for the door.

* * *

After a thoroughly confusing time needlessly backpedaling through the subway, Munehisa finally walked up the stairs of Aoyama-Itchome station and emerged in the small Aoyama shopping district, getting his bearings as he got used to the area.

The streets were hard to navigate, and he didn’t have a map. He did have the address, but… well, this was Japan. Street signs were scarce. He leaned up against the wall of a store, looking around for some indication of where the hell Shujin Academy was.

 _I guess Dad was right about getting used to the world outside,_ he thought bitterly, thinking back to yesterday’s exchange. _Probably can’t be a yakuza if I don’t know where the hell shit is…_

Despite his father’s insistence that he lose the jacket, Munehisa had opted to continue wearing it over his Shujin uniform. Hopefully, he figured, it’d give him enough of a threatening appearance that people wouldn’t want to talk to him, and thus wouldn’t bother him. Although… if that were the case, it’d be hard to figure out where the hell this school was. Except… since he’d wasted so much time on the subway lines, it looked like he was pretty late. There wasn’t anyone else here.

Munehisa probably would just have been driven to the door of the school by one of his father’s men, but his defiant attitude had compelled Kaoru to insist upon his son going it his own way. Which, Munehisa reasoned, was only fair… but now he saw just how hard he’d made things for himself. Thinking this, he noted it might be a good idea to be a little more cooperative in the future.

As he continued scanning the streets for clues, Munehisa saw a husky guy with horrible acne and a really stupid haircut, wearing a uniform not unlike his.

“Hey, you!”

The guy turned toward him with a friendly smile and curious eyes. “Oh, hey! Who’re you?”

“Transfer student,” Munehisa replied. “Say, dude, can you tell me where Shujin is?”

“Shujin?” The guy’s voice was deep and polished, like an announcer, but had a subtly slimy, arrogant nuance to it. “What’s that?”

“Shujin? The school? That we have a uniform for?” Munehisa rolled his eyes. “You stupid or something?”

“Oh! Shujin!” The guy grinned a huge, obnoxious grin. “My, how could I forget the name of my own school! Yeah, sure, buddy! I can tell you where it is, definitely!”

“That’d be great.” Munehisa was trying his best to be as polite as possible. “So, where is it?”

The dude spun around in a circle for a second, before throwing up a hand and pointing his index finger far off to the right. “Over that way. See ya!” He then started running in the opposite direction of where he’d pointed.

“That way?” Munehisa looked in the direction that the jock guy had pointed. It didn’t look like there was a school anywhere nearby— just a bunch of trees. But… it wasn’t like he had any better ideas of where to go. So he started walking.

“Hey!” shouted another voice, stopping Munehisa in his tracks. “Are you lost or something?”

“Um… yeah,” he turned around to see who it was. “Hey, uh, this is the right way to get to Shujin, yeah?”

“What? No…” The new guy who’d spoken, about his age, had deep slicked back black hair, a small goatee, and glasses over his grey eyes. “There’s just a bunch more stores that way…”

“Oh, really? Cause some guy told me—”

“What guy?”

“Um… really unevenly cut curls, lots of zits, gave off this real snooty vibe—”

“Oh, Kamoshida…” The black haired guy shook his head. “That guy’s nothing but trouble in my book. Probably thought it’d be real amusing to make you late.”

“What?!” Munehisa growled. “The fuck kind of asshole—”

“He’s _that_ kind of asshole. He’ll take any chance he can get to screw with someone if there’s a decent chance he’ll get away with it.” The more helpful than Kamoshida dude extended his hand. “So you’re a transfer student, eh? I’m Sojiro Sakura. I know my way around here pretty well, so, feel free to come talk to me if you need help with something.”

The hand was left hovering free and open in midair, as Munehisa just stared at it, bewildered. This guy wasn’t afraid of him? He thought he’d for sure got a pretty imposing and intimidating stature that’d keep people away, but…

_Well, I guess I don’t really know what I want…_

Sakura narrowed his eyes at Munehisa. “Are you gonna shake my hand or what?”

After a beat, Munehisa took hold of Sakura’s hand.

“Munehisa Iwai. Pleased to meet you, Sakura.”

“Likewise. Now let’s get to school, or we’ll both be late.”

* * *

“Good morning, everyone.” Shiho Suzui, the Japanese teacher and the one in charge of homeroom, bowed deeply to the class, then began writing a name on the board. “We have ourselves a transfer student today. His name is Munehisa Iwai. He’s been homeschooled by his father most of his life, so this environment is new to him. I hope you will all welcome him warmly. Iwai-kun, do you have anything to say to the class?”

There were all kinds of mutterings throughout the classroom, as people quietly conversed to themselves about the transfer student’s attitude, attire, and general appearance.

 _A new transfer student?_ Ichiko Ohya perked up, turning her attention to Iwai. _Sounds like this could be an interesting lead for a scoop! Hm… he looks kind of scary._

“Hey.” Iwai nodded his head to the class, with a politely blank face. “Cool to be here.”

“Thank you, Iwai-kun.” Suzui-sensei turned to the room and scanned the area for an available seat. “You may sit… um… where…”

“He can sit over here, if that’s okay,” the unmistakably charming voice of Sojiro said. Ichiko turned, seeing that Sojiro was pointing to a seat adjacent to himself—

_Sojiro?! Sitting next to… him?!_

“Yeah, that’s fine.” The Iwai guy walked over to the seat Sojiro had indicated, and sat down. “Thanks, Sakura.”

“Yeah, no problem. Hope we get along.”

 _Oh my god!_ Ichiko had to cover her mouth to stop herself from yelling. _They’re talking like they know each other already! Maybe they’re… doing… that?! Oh, no, don’t jump to conclusions! You know Sojiro would prefer someone like you, right? Not him! Or another him! Definitely a—_

“Excuse me,” the familiar voice of Principal Yu Narukami said. “Could I borrow the transfer student for a moment?”

_Principal Narukami?! Is he in trouble, or—_

“Um… can it wait till after cla—”

“Suzui. This is important. If you’d please…”

“Um…” Suzui-sensei blinked nervously, then nodded. “Iwai-kun. Go ahead.”

“Sure…”

“Thank you.”

 _Oh, jeez! This is definitely a lead!!_ Ichiko discreetly reached inside her bag, checking to make sure she still had her camera, pen, and tape recorder. Meanwhile, Iwai followed Principal Narukami out of the classroom.

“Now, if we may— Ohya-chan, where are you going??”

“Sorry! I forgot! Club business!” Ichiko hastily shut the door behind her. She looked down the hallways both directions, and spotted Narukami and Iwai, heading to the principal’s office.

 _All right…_ her body tingling with excitement, Ichiko pulled out her camera and started to discreetly creep after her targets. _Time for me to go to work!_

* * *

Principal Narukami opened the door, and politely gestured for Munehisa to enter. “Please, sit down.”

Taking slow, nervous steps, Munehisa entered the office and obliged Narukami’s invitation.

“So… uh, did I do something?”

“Not at all.” Narukami folded his fingers together as he took his own seat behind his desk. “But I would like us to be clear on the… um, terms, of your enrollment. And to ensure that you do not ‘do something.’”

“That so? And do you have every student do this with you, a little beginning of year one on one therapy session?”

“Most students’ fathers don’t call me up offering me outrageous sums of yen and demanding that I make space for their child after the enrollment period has closed, lest my life and reputation be threatened,” Narukami answered coolly. “So, no, this is just you.”

“Riiiiiight.” Munehisa nodded his head slowly. “Of course.”

“I’m glad you understand.” Narukami firmly placed his hands down flat onto the desk. “Now, I understand you come from an… unscrupulous background.”

“You could say that.”

“And you won’t bring that into this school?”

“Well… see, I kinda don’t wanna be here.”

“That’s unfortunate. Sadly, given the special circumstances of your case, I’m afraid I don’t have the rights to eject you from my school, even if I wanted to. However, your father has requested that I keep him informed on your activities here, and should he be unsatisfied, he himself will take action— up to and including potential expulsion.”

“How wonderful.”

“I can’t imagine you’re pleased with that.”

“Well, I ain’t exactly surprised,” Munehisa admitted, casually kicking back and putting his feet on Narukami’s desk (an action which was met with visible disdain, but no verbal warnings). “My dad’s not really a flexible guy, especially when it comes to bossing people around. You don’t wanna get on his bad side.”

“I see,” Narukami nodded, pleased enough with this verdict. “So that should be ample incentive for you to not cause trouble. Which means, in particular, to please not threaten the students. Should I catch word of any trouble, I will not hesitate to call your father.”

“Can I go now?”

“Please do.” Narukami indicated the door. “I hope I never have to see you in this office again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little confession. I still don't know quite for sure how I'll introduce the cognitive world here. I need to think of a way that makes sense with the story. And the 80s. But I'm sure that I'll figure it out soon.
> 
> I feel like this chapter might have been a bit too rushed, but I hope you all liked it anyway. But please tell me if you didn't... I'm always open to criticism. Till next time. byebye!


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